


swallow the flame down

by stormss



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death Fix, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, M/M, References to Depression, Reunions, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, ignoring the finale!! like most of us are i think!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 11:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: Eliot will crawl to the Underworld andbeg,if he has to.*Or, inspired by ancient myth, Eliot decides that he can't give up on Q. He promised he would be brave, didn't he?





	swallow the flame down

**Author's Note:**

> hi again!!
> 
> i'm still drowning in finale-related emotions, and so i thought i'd attempt to tackle a fix-it that loosely follows the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, because...why not? the title comes from margaret atwood's poem "eating fire."

_Eating fire_  
_is your ambition:_  
_to swallow the flame down_  
_take it into your mouth_  
_and shoot it forth, a short or an incandescent_  
_tongue, a word_  
_exploding from you in gold, crimson_  
_unrolling in a brilliant scroll_

 _To be lit up from within_  
_vein by vein._

_To be the sun._

Margaret Atwood,  _Eating Fire_

* * *

  _i._

"I didn't — fuck, Penny, I don't want to die." 

He hates the irony, the fucking pity of it that he feels deep down in his core, of admitting his darkest secrets to Penny. They'd only sort of been getting along before, and now here they are: dead and left only with each other. The memories of what he did are fresh in his mind; Quentin remembers the suddenness, his outstretched fingers as the blinding light of forbidden magic swallowed him whole, the dread in his stomach because despite being in and out of hospitals his whole life he realized all at once  _I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die._ His discipline, fucking minor mendings, made a reluctant martyr out of him, and here he is, letting all of this out. While crying. 

To Penny. 

His fingers twist into his sweater, and he feels a shard of the mirror that essentially killed him stuck in the fibres of the fabric. His stomach curls unpleasantly, and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as the tears continue to fall. He wants to be strong, he knows he  _is,_ but it's so damn hard to not feel himself breaking down. Quentin sharply sniffs, and wipes at his face, feeling betrayed by the perpetual sob caught in his throat. He finds himself repeating it, like a mantra: "I don't want to die." 

He isn't ready. There's a flash of Margo, of Julia, of Alice's eyes and her scream as he fell. There's the hazy comfort of a memory: Eliot, alive, muttering some sarcastic retort as he claimed his body from the Monster. It's always him —  _Eliot, Eliot, Eliot._

Penny interrupts his thoughts. "Who says you're going to, Q?" 

He meets Penny's eyes, and notices the glint, the barely-there wink. The phone suddenly rings, a loud, shrill noise that fills the air. The conversation is quick, mostly murmured, barely beginning before Penny's hanging up. And before Quentin can ask any questions, there's a knock at the door, and — 

* * *

_ii._

Eliot wakes up alone. 

Again. 

It takes him back to a few days before, when he'd been quarantined in the Brakebills infirmary until Lipson and Fogg were certain that there were no fucked up, residual Monster side effects in his system. He had been alone when one of the Healing students would come in on the hour every hour to perform a basic mending spell over the gaping axe-wound in his stomach, recently stitched up and covered with gauze, to keep the aches at bay. He'd been alone until he suddenly wasn't — Margo being the first to rush in to be at his side, while the others slowly trickled in after her. And he hasn't really been alone since. 

Until now, though. He's alone in his new room, three days after the bonfire. 

It still feels like a cloudy memory, buried under the suffocation of pain pills and the overflow of magic hitting him like a punch to the nose. He's back in his body and it's fucked all to hell — the limp wasn't expected, but he'd conjured the cane that he'd used in his last years at the mosaic, and it helps. Sort of. Eliot consistently struggles with spacing out and almost always feels the claws of the memories of the Monster's actions ghosting over his limbs, taunting him, reminding him of what he did. He looks down at his hands, at the tremble of his fingers, and it reminds him that these hands have killed people. That they've torn through gods. 

He stumbles a bit as he gets out of bed. 

Kady had offered him the bedroom near the big window of the penthouse, almost immediately after he declared that they needed to get as far away from the cottage as possible. He'd gone inside to change when he was allowed to leave the infirmary, mainly because Bambi had reclaimed her old room while she was waiting to hear about his results. Eliot's eyes had lingered on the knots and scars of the wood of the bannister, the imprints of students past and present evident in the posters on the walls of the bedrooms. These small details had somehow been in his mind-prison, which makes it feel  _real_ , and also like there are fingers closing in around his windpipe. 

When he'd gotten dressed, out of the god-awful graphic tee that the Monster somehow deemed acceptable enough to wear in public, he had descended the staircase and felt the immense weight of — well, of everything. The cottage, even the campus itself, wasn't his, not anymore and it mirrored how he had grown to feel like a stranger in Fillory, almost overnight. It had hit him all at once that he was a dethroned king in more than one realm. He was powerless, and he couldn't stay in the cottage, and there was Kady: with an offer and a key. 

The penthouse is beautiful, sure, but he is too occupied by the thought of Quentin to even take it all in. He thinks of Q, his lovely Q, who was never really  _his,_ not in this timeline. The first night, after Margo had quietly told him the news, tears curling down the curve of her nose, he'd thrown bottles at the wall and screamed until his voice was hoarse, only thinking at the last minute to throw up a concealment ward so nobody could hear him. He'd grown sullen and quiet, and completely unable to listen to anything that any of them tried to tell him because Quentin — Quentin had done something stupid and brave and he'd died,  _for him_ , as Alice had insisted. 

(Oh, Alice, who sat with him when Margo passed out on the hospital bed opposite his, and filled him in on everything that had happened despite the others wanting to be less blunt with him. Eliot's last memory of Alice was full of hatred — for killing magic, for taking their choice away — but that quickly ebbed into respect as she talked. She had gone through this, too, she had reminded him, being outside her own body; being powerless while also experiencing an overwhelming influx of power, and she had told him everything he wanted to know. About how she and Q had tried, again, but quickly realized it wouldn't work; about Q's newfound discipline, about the Library and all the research they had done, and how Quentin wouldn't rest until they found a way to save him). 

And so, thinking about all of this, Eliot decides that it's his turn to be brave. 

His friends come and go as they please, but on a morning when they're all sitting around the kitchen island for coffee and messily magicked omelettes, he emerges from his bedroom with as much grace as he can manage and dramatically whacks his cane against the doorframe, announcing his arrival. Eliot's kept his hair long, trimmed up enough just to make it neat, and he runs his fingers through the curls now and pushes it all back, out of his eyes. He needs too sort of look like he's got his shit together, even if he's one bad sleep away from spiralling. 

He clears his throat, and makes his announcement. 

"We need to be brave. We're getting Q back." 

He doesn't add:  _I'd crawl to the Underworld and beg, if I have to._ But the general sentiment is understood, judging by the looks they all give each other, and the sympathy launched at him like a spray of bullets. Eliot glances around the kitchen, as the natural light spills in and makes it that much more obvious that everyone around him is exhausted, but up for a fight, as always. 

"Hallelujah, El. Fucking finally." Margo says, around a mouthful of her breakfast. "Thank you for joining the party." 

The party in question is evidently of the saving-Quentin variety, and it started days ago. There are notebooks strewn about on every surface, and Alice has her finger wedged into a heavy book to hold her place. It appears to be Latin, judging by the title etched into the spine. Kady has her own shit to deal with, but she still looks like she'd be down to throw some punches, should they be needed. Margo hasn't let Sorrows out of her sight, constantly keeping them strapped to her back, so he knows she's probably leading the brigade. 

They're ready. They've  _been_ ready, waiting for him to get off his ass, to get out of his cloudy hellscape of mourning. 

He clears his throat. "Anyone have a plan?" 

"Sit down, El, and pay attention." Margo smirks, nodding at Alice, prompting her to begin a spiel they've probably all heard before, maybe many times already. 

So he does what he's told, and sits down, and listens closely. 

That's when a burst of wind blows through the window, allowing a beam of golden light, only visible to Julia, to practically burn a hole through the floor. 

* * *

_iii._

When she had first woken up, and discovered that she'd been granted her humanity, she suddenly and violently longed to return to her dark state of slumber. She'd be no help to her friends, and when she falls to her knees, a wail leaving her lips when Penny23 comes back only with Alice, who is sobbing, she feels like a complete failure. 

She is stuck being human, without magic, without her invincibility, and when she finds enough pain at the bonfire to conjure the power to force Q's deck of cards into the air, she thinks she's found her way to a path that could offer something greater. But when it ends up being the only trick Julia can pull off, she gets angrier than she's ever been and chain-smokes on the balcony and pushes everyone away. Kady tries to talk to her, invites her to get coffee, to go for a walk, anything. Penny23 is almost insufferable, feeling guilty for neglecting his psychic abilities when she needed him most. She silently forgives him, partly because of his puppy dog eyes, but also because she knows what it's like. If people hadn't forgiven her, so long ago, she wouldn't have her friends around her now. 

Karma truly is a bitch, she guesses. 

But when Eliot — wrecked, stumbling, grieving Eliot — emerges from his claimed bedroom, ready to declare war, Julia lingers in the shadows, until.  _Until,_ there's the suddenness of the golden beam of light, and she steps into it, and she's frozen in place. The Binder emerges, surrounded by shadowy faces that she can't make out, and her breath hitches. 

"The Binder has spoken to representatives of the gods, and it has come to his attention that you, Miss Wicker, have not truly been allowed to make your choice." The Binder says, once he has pressed a palm to her forehead, easing her worry. 

"I —" Julia stops, glances over her shoulder. They'll need her. Quentin, fuck — her best friend needs her, powered up, and she longs to be fulfilled. "I'm ready to make it." 

The Binder stares at her, eyes steady. "And so The Binder asks, what will it be?" 

Julia closes her eyes as he speaks. She forgets about forgiveness, about making herself hollow for others. She sees Our Lady Underground flash in her mind, and she seeks out the answer deep inside herself, and she nods once she's found it. 

"Make me a goddess." 

* * *

_iv._

"So, long story short, we just gotta find a way to get your ass down there." Margo adds, once Alice has finished  her plan. She downs the lsat few dregs of coffee in her mug, watching Eliot's face carefully. It had been a lot of information for them all to take in — the story about star-crossed lovers, of trekking down to the Underworld to win over Hades, all of it — but she knows that at this point, they've been through too much for this not to work. And she's willing to try anything.

She knows Eliot's willing to try anything, too, because she somehow has found herself wedged between the relationship of two men who are probably two of the most self-sacrificial dumbasses she's ever met. When Eliot lets out his stream of consciousness, which mainly consists of asking Alice if she's sure it could work, and where they'd even start when it came to looking for a door to the Underworld that they'd actually be able to access, Margo looks over his shoulder, and her eyes widen. 

"Jesus tits," she mutters, as she watches Julia's eyes glow goddess-yellow.  _That_ is a plot development, if she's ever seen one. 

The others follow her gaze, all of them surprised. 

"You guys need a door to the Underworld?" Julia asks, eyes still glowing, flanked by what must be people, though the magic radiating off of them manages to keep their general forms completely concealed. Even Margo's fairy sight can't make them out. 

Julia continues, pulling out a map from their pile of research items, and by waving her fingers over it she illuminates several spots that sit perfectly on their marked lines of the magical pipelines. "I think I can help." 

She looks to Eliot, who is staring just as wide-eyed as the rest of them, a single curl falling into his face. Julia approaches him, and presses her hand to his heart. 

"I need you to think of a memory."

* * *

_v._

They are fifteen years, three months and thirty-six days into the mosaic quest when Quentin, hair almost reaching his shoulders now, and lightly greying at the roots, turns to him as they wake up. He has a mischievous look in his eye, a knowing look, one that Eliot's grown to be able to understand in a heartbeat after years together. Eliot presses close, so they're nose-to-nose. 

"What's on your mind, Coldwater?" Eliot asks, voice lowered to a whisper as to not wake Teddy, who is fast asleep on the other side of the room. 

Quentin smiles, a brilliant thing, and moves his thumb along Eliot's jaw. "We should talk outside." 

A knot of confusion ties into his stomach, but Eliot still follows Q outside — after years of living in their small cottage, he knows exactly where to step to avoid the weak spots in the floor that would creak under his weight. They slip outside into the early morning light, the warmth of the coming summer already seeping into Eliot's bones. He tips his chin upward, soaking in the heat, and he slowly stretches his arms over his head. Eliot takes in the evidence of the night before: the neatly stacked tiles, the sketchbooks and pastels that seem to permanently stain their fingers left on the quilt, a small basket of fruits from the woman at the farmer's stall in the village. 

Quentin doesn't head straight for the mosaic, as they have every morning since they first walked through the clock; instead, he settles on the bench they constructed that looks out at their crops, interwoven with blooming flowers. 

"Q?" Eliot joins him on the bench, stretching out his legs, groaning under his breath at the slight cracking of his joints. He still likes to think that he's holding to his claim of aging like a fine wine — there's just been a little stumbling along the way. 

Quentin stares down at his hands, rough with calluses over time, and then he meets Eliot's eyes. "I was thinking, and uh, I think we should get married." 

Eliot smirks. "Really."

"Really." Quentin insists, mouth quirking upward into a smile. He knocks his shoulder into Eliot's. "Why not? I mean, I love you, we have a  _son_. Shit, we aren't getting any younger here, El." 

"I love your enthusiasm, Q." Eliot teases, before effortlessly kissing Quentin, like they were still twenty-five and had hope of ever getting back home. They'd talked this through —  _this_ was their home now, they were doing this to help their friends in their own timeline, and they were at ease with it. They still bicker, sometimes, but they've mostly grown into their place, here. Q kisses him back, hand curled against his collarbone, natural as breathing. "Fuck it, let's do it. Make a night of it." 

Quentin smiles into it when he kisses Eliot again, and when they hear the creak of the cottage door opening they both turn to see Teddy, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Quentin gets up and runs a hand through Eliot's hair, tugging on the ends of his curls playfully. "You're up first, _fiancé_." 

Eliot's heart soars at that word, and he watches as Q moves to pick up Teddy, close to ten and full of this unadulterated love that hasn't been tainted by the world. They disappear into the cottage and Eliot sighs as he gets to his feet — but he's happy. He smooths out his clothes and approaches the mosaic, flipping through their current sketchbook until he finds a blank page. After he's etched out a design, he glances over his shoulder and watches as Q and Teddy wave goodbye, en route to the long dirt road that will take them into the village and the morning's market. As he starts a line of green tiles, Eliot finds that he's grinning. 

***

They end up inviting several neighbours, and by the time dusk has fallen, the wedding is set in place. 

It was only a formality, really, since Eliot feels like they've been committed to one another since their first anniversary on the quest; especially after Arielle got sick and passed away five years ago, their relationship has only become stronger. But getting married feels  _right,_ deep in his soul, so Eliot dresses in his cleanest tunic and smooths back his hair and leans down to make sure Teddy is ready, too. All day, as their neighbours slowly arrived, he'd been hearing stories of how well he and Q worked as a couple; everyone they've come in contact with appear to think of them as soulmates from Earth, which he'll gladly accept. 

Quentin and Eliot meet under the large tree on the edge of their property, where the small group of neighbours are waiting to witness the marriage. There's no rings, nothing like the Earth ceremonies engrained into their minds, but the man they found to officiate binds their wrists together with a pale blue ribbon while they recite their vows. They kiss, enthusiastically, Eliot's hands on the soft edges of Q's jaw, and they knock their foreheads together to breathe as encouraging applause embraces them from all sides. 

They're signing what is essentially the Fillorian version of a marriage license when a woman, who had arrived with their officiant earlier in the evening, offers a basket of various trinkets and fruits. Quentin had been telling Eliot of the possibility of getting one of the local blacksmiths to forge them rings, even if it wasn't tradition, and they'd been completely lost in their own world. They're so wrapped up that it takes them by surprise when, suddenly, the woman takes both of their hands in her own and closes her eyes. 

"Uh, okay?" Eliot mutters, confusion etched into his features. Quentin shakes his head at him, also completely fucking lost. He begins looking around for a way out of this situation, when the woman hums, and then opens her eyes. 

"I worry your happiness will not last," the woman whispers, clearly trying to make it come across as a sort of warning. 

Quentin's jaw drops a little, head cocked to the side, and Eliot lets out a laugh. 

"Who in the ever-loving fuck is this, Q?" Eliot asks, whispering right into his husband's ear. 

(And he tries not to get too caught up in that — in  _husband_ ). 

Quentin, speaking through a forced smile, whispers back: "I have no clue." 

"Your union will end in unimaginable pain," the woman declares. Eliot raises his finger to speak to that point, when her eyes flash white. "I am a prophet." 

"Of course," Quentin whispers, as the woman dramatically strolls away. Eliot wants to give her points for the  _effervescent_ exit that could rival one of Bambi's — but he also desperately wants to prove this woman and her apparent premonition wrong. 

Even though she's gone, amongst the small crowd of their neighbours, he makes a point of kissing Q, hard ad deep. He makes a point of gripping his hand and pulling him close, shoving their happiness in everyone's faces. They'll be happy. They'll  _stay_ happy, and together, because their love is fated through the goddamn multiverse. And this Eliot doesn’t know it yet, but they’ll _get_ fifty years of this. They will live past this woman’s disheartening claims. 

Quietly, he thinks:  _fuck prophecies._

* * *

_iv._

Margo jumps when Eliot loudly gasps, eyes flying open as he apparently finds the memory. Julia's smile is just barely pulling at the corners of her mouth as she pulls her hand away from his chest, clearly satisfied. Little do they all know that all of the gods are watching when their newest addition manages to prove to them all that the death of Quentin Coldwater was irrevocably a mistake. 

"Why did you need that?" Eliot murmurs, eyes shiny with tears as the memory was wrenched from the back of his mind. Margo makes her way to her best friend, putting her hand to his cheek, then moving to curl her arm around his shoulders. The others are left in the dark as Julia looks at him, all-knowing, able to see into the very interworkings of his mind. 

Finally, Julia speaks. "To prove something to the gods." 

Half a second later, the lights start flickering throughout the apartment. Kady immediately drops into her fighting stance, arms outstretched to perform some of her token battle magic, but by the time they've all fallen into their typical roles, the lights are back, and there is only one illuminated marker on the map. Margo drops one of her Sorrows onto the chair next to her in relief. Julia grins, her eyes flashing gold once more. 

"This is our door." 

* * *

_iii._

"We have seen your quest —" 

"— and we have seen your connections that ebb between dimensions. We have seen the love that flows between you all, and this has been proven with his cherished memory." 

The figures are visible to her, now, and Julia inhales deeply. The others were preparing for their trip, throwing items into bags and grabbing every and any charmed item they could find that would give them more power to complete the spells. These representatives of the gods ooze power that mimics those that they serve, and Julia bows her head when one of them approaches her, taking her face between their hands. 

"We have taken your proof into consideration, and we have seen how much love radiates around you all," the representative tells her, eyes surprisingly warm and comforting. They seem taken aback by how much they really do love one another, and Julia thinks that it is almost comical that maybe love will save them all, in the end. "We would like to give you a chance to get back what you lost." 

That's all she needs. 

***

"Everything I've read says that only one person can go in." Alice says, as they approach the dingy alleyway. They're in Manhattan, still, because an added bonus of being offered a second chance at godhood is determining where magical portals to other realms pop up. Julia crouches down and touches the ground, and with a quick movement of her fingers, a faded sigil appears. 

"Here." Julia says, the others surrounding her. Eliot's been fidgety since they left the penthouse, and Julia rests her hand on his arm, easing his worry. Alice kneels next to her, running a finger around the intricate shapes of the sigil. Bringing her palms together, she begins channelling magic, whispering the spell in Romanian, activating both the markings on the ground and, amazingly, a portal. 

"Shit," Margo whispers from somewhere behind them, and Julia doesn't have to look to know she has both Sorrows in hand. 

Eliot pushes ahead of everyone. "I'll go in. If anything goes sideways, close the portal." 

"No fucking way." Margo declares, others chiming in with their dismissal of his suicide mission. 

Julia begins performing a spell, falling back on human magic rather than goddess power, and makes sure Alice is watching. She ensures that the other woman has it down before she speaks. "We have one shot at this, but if you keep the portal open I can go in with Eliot. Hades will meet with us both." 

Alice nods. "I've got it." 

"Good — you two make sure nothing happens to her while she's casting. We're going to be producing a fuckton of magic that anyone within a thirty mile radius will want," Julia says, looking pointedly at Margo and Kady. "Penny, be ready to get us out of here if things go wrong. When we bring back Q, it's going to take a hell of a lot of cooperative magic, so be prepared."

She finally turns to Eliot. "Ready?" 

There's an unspoken truce between her and Eliot — they'll do whatever it takes to get their Q back. He looks wary, but determined; he reaches out and Julia takes his hand. 

"Let's do this," Eliot says, lacing his fingers with hers. They turn to Alice, who is perfectly copying Julia's tutting, fine-tuning it, even. After a few moments, the portal grows larger in size, and properly looks like a doorway. Big enough for two people. 

"Just remember how much you love him." Julia whispers, pressing her lips together as she moves closer to the glowing red light that has become their entrance into the Underworld. Eliot nods, and she takes a breath, calling out to the other gods for protection. She thinks of Q; she thinks of the two of them, fourteen and unsure of everything but their love for each other. She thinks of being his shoulder to cry on; she remembers the moments where those roles were switched, the memories drenched in golden, refracting light. 

Then, she takes a step inside. 

They aren't immediately spat out like bugs, they aren't crushed to smithereens by stepping outside the boundaries of magic. She still feels the pressure of Eliot's hand in her own, so she knows she isn't just being protected because of her godhood. Within five steps, they are well past the portal, and come face to face with what looks to be a regular looking office door. A small light is illuminated over the doorframe, providing a piercing white glow. She glances down the hallway they've found themselves in, and she notices that some of the doorways have flickering lights above them; some have completely dimmed. Her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach when she sees a broken light, just one door down, the gold nameplate adorning the door itself hanging on by mere hinges.  _Persephone_ , she realizes, and she bows her head in respect for Our Lady Underground. The lights represented lives, and Julia wonders how many have been affected because of  _them_. 

"Julia." Eliot whispers, and she brings her attention back to the door in front of them. She swallows when she reads the nameplate, in bold lettering:  _HADES_. 

"This is it —" Julia starts, only for the door to swing open by itself. They both look at each other, and a deep voice beckons them forward, so powerful that they blink and they're seated in leather armchairs, all of a sudden facing Hades. 

 _Hades,_ who looks like he is in mourning himself, who doesn't look incredibly impressed that they're here. Julia swallows, gold eyes flashing without warning, and Eliot visibly tenses up next to her when the king of the Underworld himself starts speaking. 

* * *

_ii._

"I know why you are here." 

Eliot shrinks down in his seat, but remembers why they're here, and straightens his spine. Margo's the witty one, the one who comes up with the snarky responses, but he still manages to spit out: "So we can keep this meeting short, then." 

Hades smirks. "You seem to think that I can do something for you."

"Our friend —" Julia pauses, and he knows that she's looking at him and watching the way his mouth twitches, "—our friend Quentin Coldwater? We want him back." 

"That's a big request, Miss Wicker." Hades says, leaning back in his chair and flicking his wrist, a tumbler of whiskey appearing before him. He sips it, keeping eye contact with them. "How did you manage to find your way here? I suppose your newfound power helped you?" 

"And the gods." Eliot says, leaning forward in his seat. He knows he can play this game — if it means saving Q, he'll say anything to this guy. "Listen, we just want Quentin. He didn't deserve to die and we — we love him too much not to try to bring him back. He deserves a second chance." 

Hades cocks his head to the side. 

"I wanted to extend my apologies about Persephone." Julia whispers, immediately catching Hades' attention, forcing his gaze to practically burn a hole in her head. But then Julia reaches forward and takes the god's hand, and Eliot watches silently while he lets out a small groan and his eyes roll backward. She's telling him something, and when he flashes his eyes open again, he looks at her with a sense of recognition.

"You were the magician she loved so dearly." Hades says, as if he fully understands her, now. Julia nods, and Eliot nods along with her to help punctuate her point. Downing the rest of his whiskey, Hades looks between them both, before sighing. "What did the gods do to you?"

The question is directed to Eliot, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Well, I was possessed by one of two murderous immortal beings, who were created by your people, I think? They were your mistakes, and Quentin got rid of them for you." 

Hades raises his eyebrows at that.

"How do I know you deserve this chance, when there are millions of souls down here?" Hades leans forward in his seat, eyes menacing. Eliot mirrors his movements. "I want to help you, because  _she_ held some love in her heart for you. But why should I?" 

"My friends and I have died thirty-nine times before, to finish a quest to save humanity. We got magic back. We stopped a magical realm from dying off. My friends got rid of _your_ people's mistakes, in the blink of a goddamned eye. I loved Q for all of it, every moment of every fucking day —" 

Julia reaches out to him. "Eliot —"

"—we went through a clock that spat us out in the past, and we lived together for fifty years. We were in love for fifty years, and he had to watch me die, and I refuse to let him go without us having that chance in this timeline. Frankly, the gods need to throw us a fucking bone."

He sits back with a small huff, arms crossed over his chest.

"You know, I've been waiting for centuries for someone to figure out how to leave." Hades finally says. Eliot stops glaring at the floor and meets his eyes. "It will come at a cost. I will not tell you when or how, but you will have to accept that this will not be an easy process. I will call upon you, when you are least expecting it." 

"We wouldn't expect any less from you." Eliot whispers, and Julia just touches his arm. A warning. 

Hades, however, smirks. "I look forward to seeing you two again." 

He then picks up an ancient looking rotary phone, dialling a three-digit extension. Into the receiver, he asks for the Secrets Taken to the Grave department, and raises his finger to them, asking them to sit still in so many words. He says a few words, and then finally confirms their hopes. "I'm sure. Send him to the exit." 

Julia sags in on herself in relief; Eliot inhales sharply. 

"You'll want to meet Mr. Coldwater at this designated area before returning to your portal." Hades hands them a small scrap of paper, burnt at the edges, with simply drawn lines on it. Eliot can't see how fully how to read it, but Julia takes it and waves her hand over it, bringing the map to life. As they rotate the page, a small compass in the corner shifts with their movements, making sure they're headed in the right direction. 

Eliot meets Hades' eyes. "You won't regret this." 

"Good luck, you two." Hades responds, once they've stood and made their way to the doorway. "Don't let the shadows overcome your patience on your way out." 

The door slams shut behind them, and with another blink they're in a completely different hallway, although the compass on the map confirms that they're where they need to be. Julia nudges him, and gestures to the small blinking dot. "That's our portal, and this is where Q will be." 

That's when he notices the other dot, further away, and according to the map, only a few feet away. He picks up his pace and there are the wisps of other souls around them, but Eliot keeps his thoughts on Q, like his north star, and the figures don't touch them. 

They're five feet away, and then three, and one, and then they're stopping, because _x_ marks the spot. And Eliot can finally feel the weight lifted off his shoulders. 

* * *

_i._

—  _there's a knock at the door._ Quentin doesn't know much about the Underworld, but he does know that this shouldn't be happening, that this isn't protocol, and Penny's still smiling at him like he knows the greatest secret of all time. And he's probably heard some great ones, given where he's apparently been stationed for eternity, but Quentin wants to shout at him that this wasn't the time to brag about that sort of thing. 

"You might want to get that." Penny says, but he doesn't say it like it's a suggestion. "It's been nice seeing you, asshole." 

Quentin shakes his head. "Penny —" 

" _Go,_ Coldwater. You only have one chance at this." Penny gets to his feet, and tugs Quentin up from the couch. He not so gently shoves him toward the door, where there is still that insistent knock. Looking back one time at Penny, he offers him a small and thankful smile, even if he isn't sure that what he's about to encounter will be good. Finally, he twists the doorknob, and he comes face to face with hazy figures.  _Familiar,_ hazy figures, more like shadows, but they're  _here._

"Eliot?" Quentin asks, stepping forward, his voice cracking. "Julia?" 

Penny appears at his side. "Don't let them look back. You're the shade, here, okay? Just follow them and they'll get you out." 

Quentin has, like, a million questions, but he's not going to give up on this chance. He looks down at his hand and surely enough, it's translucent, proving Penny's point. Penny looks past him and starts speaking to Julia and Eliot, telling them the same thing.

"You guys have to go now, before Hades changes his mind." Penny tells them, gesturing down the hallway. "I'll see you all soon, but I've read your books. It isn't your time. So  _go,_ motherfuckers." 

The shadowy Eliot says something, but it's muffled. He's averting his eyes like Penny told him to, and Quentin just longs to touch him, because he's  _alive,_ he's here, for him. And Jules, fuck, despite being barely more than a shadow to him she's radiating power. When the figures start to move, frantic like they're running out of time, it's all Quentin can do to keep up with them. They take sharp turns, and Quentin almost bumps into them when they stop all of a sudden. 

That's when he sees the literal light at the end of the tunnel. A portal, looking angry and red. Their way out. Quentin takes a step forward, an instinct, but it ends up being Julia who steps through first. Then goes Eliot. He takes a deep breath, and thinks  _Eliot, Eliot, Eliot_ , like always, before stepping into the light — 

— and he falls onto his hands and knees, scraping the heels of his hands on rough concrete. 

It takes him a moment to realize that he's whole, again, that he doesn't feel any pain. It takes him a moment to realize he's breathing in fresh air, and this isn't a trick. He lets out a shaky breath, and he gets to his feet, and he's immediately swarmed. Julia throws her arms around him, crying into his neck. He curls his arms around her middle, and he looks over her shoulder to see Margo, Alice and Kady grunting through the last of the cooperative spell. He feels air shift behind him, and with a final tut, the portal closes. A sigil on the ground flares bright red, and then fades again into the ground.

"Fuck, Q," Jules whispers, her voice hoarse with tears against his neck. Quentin pulls her even closer, sighing in relief as he holds his best friend. 

Julia pulls away from him, only for Quentin to be tackled by Margo, and then Alice, and Kady squeezes a single arm around his shoulders and then there's  _Eliot,_ who he's been longing for since he got his memories back. The last he'd seen of him he was bleeding out in the forest, and it's  _too much_ when he stumbles forward and with a sob caught in his throat, throws his arms around the taller man. 

"Thank you, I love you," Quentin murmurs into Eliot's sternum, only half paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth. 

Eliot falls back a little bit, weak on his bad leg, but he holds up Quentin despite the power behind his hug. He feels tears burning at his eyes as he holds Q close, so thankful because  _they did this._ They saved him, and Q is here, in his arms, and he lets out a small sound as he breathes in his hair. 

He pulls back, just enough, and cups Q's face in his hands. "I love you, too, Q. So fucking much."

They're desperate as they meet in a kiss, Quentin's hands curling into the fabric of Eliot's vest at his sides, leaning up on his toes to properly kiss him. He doesn't want to say that it's life-altering, but the kiss is everything they've needed since they were in another fucking dimension, and it's only when Margo loudly coughs that they pull away.

"Guys, I don't know how to thank you, I —"

Margo rolls her eyes. "Come on, Q, don't sweat it."

He slumps back against Eliot's side, and Eliot presses a kiss to the top of his head.

As the others pack up their belongings, as they fight to leave before their presence could be tracked, Eliot pulls him close again. "I hope you know I'm never letting you do something that stupid again."

They startle as there is a clang somewhere down the alley; one of the few rogue Librarians left is approaching, and Kady steps forward, rolling up her sleeves. She deals with it, with an impressive blast of battle magic, and she quickly runs back to the others so they could get back to the penthouse, hopefully unscathed. 

"You're stuck with me now." Quentin mutters back, pressing his mouth to Eliot's shoulder, both of them enraptured in Kady's quick-thinking. Knocking his shoulder into Q's, he gestures to Penny23, who's looking at them expectantly. Alice and Kady are already touching his arms, and Margo lingers near them, trying to push them forward, a gentle smile on her face. 

"Come on Q — let's go home."  

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! 
> 
> come say hi on [ tumblr! ](http://lizzogay.tumblr.com/)


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